Brittany
by litlgaurdian
Summary: It starts as a simple night, Santana's birthday. Brittany gets her a fetish doll off the internet that doesn't turn out to be quite what she was looking for.
1. Chapter 1

(A/N) This is going to be one of my Practice-fics. I'm trying to focus a little on detail and pacing and other things. So, here's how a practice fic goes, something already exists, I combine it with a story, make things work. Out pops a story. This one is based off of a movie I reciently saw called Trilogy of Terror. While the first two parts of the movie was ok the last, Amelia, is what this story is based off of. I think I saw somewhere in the opening credits that it was based off of a book or short story or something, but I don't remember. Anyway, be sure to leave lots of reviews so I know how I is doing. This may end up being a few chapters, but it'll still be short. Promise.

Coppyright: Glee belongs to glee which belongs to I think fox, Amelia belongs to Amelia which belongs to whoever Amelia belongs to. So lets begin shall we

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><p>Brittany<p>

chapter 1

Brittany Finally returned home just after the rehearsals ended. Since high school ended she had continued with the only passion she had ever truly felt when it comes to a lifestyle: Dancing. She was good, amazingly so - which she already knew thanks to Brittney Spears - and was constantly on tour seeing exotic places and distant lands. But when the tours were finished and the world was quiet for a moment she liked to return to Lima and her apartment.

She took off her shoes and sat on the sofa, sliding her coat off her shoulders as she did. In her lap she placed a wooden box wrapped loosely in thin white paper. She removed the paper quickly, easily and discarded it beside the sofa. She then put the box on the small coffee table in front of her and lifted the lid. She smiled at first, expecting to see a specific doll waiting for her to hold it, it's face locked in some sort of expression of desire, lust, and surprise. But when she saw it her face twisted in disgust.

Laying in the box was what had to have been the ugliest doll she had ever, or _would _ever see. It stood probably only seven inches tall at most and was made of dark, painted wood. The body was thin like a skeleton and the head was much too large for its size. Raven black hair spilled from his hair and down to his shoulders. His mouth, wide enough to remind her of Sam, was lined with sharpened triangular teeth. It held its mouth open, baring them threateningly. Its dark eyes bulged from its skull, its pupils white. In his hand he held a long spear, an inch longer than he was tall. Close to the tip tiny red feathers hung decrotavly. Around his middle a thin golden chain was wrapped.

Between the ugly doll and the wall of the box was a rolled piece of paper. Brittany took it out and read it. "He who kills," She read the words which were the creepy doll's _actual _name on the top of the scroll out loud, confused by it. Who would even make something like this? She studied its distorted face for a moment, "Boy are you ugly. Even your mother wouldn't love you." She ran her hand along the length of the spear, pulling her hand away quickly when she touched the edge of the head. "That's very sharp."

She put the doll down, positioning it so it stood with the base of the spear behind him. The pointed end was raised in front of him. He almost looked like he was guarding something. Brittany shook her head at that thought. Whatever he would be protecting she would never try to touch. Her heart sank a bit as she continued to look at it. "This is what I get for buying things off the internet without seeing it." She sighed, "there's no _way_ Tana will like you."

She took her thoughts away from the doll and reached into her coat pocket for her phone muttering. "Better get it over with," She dialed and waited only a moment for there to be an answer. When she heard it she spoke clearly, "Hi Mom,"

"Why didn't you call earlier?" Her mom asked

"I couldn't, I just got home."

"So when-"

"Mom-"

"are you going to-"

"Mom!" The two tried to talk over the other, Brittany finally winning. "It's about tonight. I know we started spending Friday nights together while I'm in town but I-"

"Are you sick or something?"

"No, I feel alright. It's not that."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not sick." She sighed as her mom started into something she had heard on the news. Yet another kind of flu that had some animal's name in front of it. Before she could get very far Brittany cut her off sharply. "Mom, it's Santana. It's her birthday today. And, well, I sort of promised her we'd spend the night togeth- umm, the evening together." She quickly caught herself. Her mom knew she wasn't a virgin of course. But something in the idea of her mom knowing she readily gave herself to a woman didn't feel right. With everyone else she would display her bisexuality proudly, just not with her mother.

There was a long moment of silence. Brittany twisted her hair in her fingertips nervously as she waited for a response, "So, you pick your old friend over your mom?"

"It has nothing to do with preferring."

"You always break your promises like this," Her mom's voice sounded crushed.

"When do I break my word to you?"

"Well you always-"

"What do you mean? When? Give me a when. When do I break my promises?"

"It's not like it matters. I'm just your mom and you've grown up Brittany. Don't you love me anymore?"

"Of course I love you."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. I do." Her hand fiddled with her blond hair again as she heard her mom's soft sobs on the other end. Ever since Brittany's father and sister had died in a car accident her mom had been incredibly lonely and depressed. These nights were the world to her, and Brittany knew. But she had made the promise to be with Santana on her birthday without realizing they fell on the same day.

"Now you're just being cruel to me Britt."

"I'm not being cruel." She tried to sound comforting, "It's just that it's her birthday that's all. I see you two or three times a week when I'm in town." She leaned her head back in slight annoyance as her mom began to ramble a bit about how things once were, when she watched her daughter grow up. Unintentionally Brittany snapped a little, "Mom stop treating me like a child! I'm all grown up!"

"Stop yell-"

"I'm not yelling!"

"Then why don't you just stay here? I still have your old room."

"Because I like it here."

"How come you don't like being here though?"

"Because I like having this apartment," She stuttered over her words, "I like it f-for my own. I like to be alone." Immediately she realized the mistake in her words, confirmed by a sob on the other end, "I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry." Brittany put her hand against her mouth, biting the knuckles softly as she felt tears clouding her vision.

"So how long have you been planning this?"

"About a month."

"And why didn't you say anything until now?"

"I meant to tell you before." She said truthfully.

"And you're doing this to be for that _lesbian_ bitch of a cheerleader with the fake knockers?" Brittany hated the way her mother spat the word like it was venom.

"She's much different now." She tried to explain. There was this side to Santana that she was the only one to see. It was there before, buried under the fear and lies, "She's kind and gentle. You'd like her if you only talked to her."

"It she why you left?"

"What? No, it never happened that way. I was going to be a dancer anyway. I like dancing." Brittany rolled her shoulders as her eyes fell on the doll. "you should see what I'm getting her for her birthday. It's called a genuine Zuni fettish doll. It's supposed to be really rare." Her cheeks reddened slightly at the name that caused her to buy it. She imagined a sexy doll she and Santana could play with together, nothing like this. She picked it up and moved from the couch to the chair beside it. "I bought it online. "

"Oh, you really shouldn't buy things like that online. You never know what your going to find." Brittany's eyes rolled as she crossed her legs. _No kidding_ she thought.

"It's really interesting though," She continued trying to make it sound like she had bought this strange doll on purpose. She remembered what little she had read on the scroll before calling her mom to begin with. "There's supposed to be a hunter's spirit inside it. There's a golden chain wrapped around it to keep the spirit from making the doll come to life."

"Make the doll do what?"

"Come to life." Brittany repeated louder and reached for the scroll she left on the coffee table. She laid the doll in her lap and spread the scroll with one hand, "It says: Should the chain be removed spirit and doll shall become one living . . ." She stopped herself, it sounded stupid to say out loud, "Well that's what it says." Brittany put the scroll down.

"What what says?"

"Umm, the scroll." Brittany answered, "the scroll that came with the doll. Inside the box." She picked it up by a leg and said the first thing that came into her mind. "You should see his _face_ mom." Silence met her and she called her mom's name. She pressed a button to illuminate the face of the phone. The time of the call flashed, her mom had hung up.

Brittany stared at it for a moment blinking, then whispered, "Why does it always have to be like this?" She then tossed the phone back onto the couch and stared at it. "I will _not_ get a headache." She promised herself, "I will not get a headache." She lifted the doll and looked at its ugly face. How was she supposed to give this to Santana tonight? She talked, as if to it, "I am going to take a bath. And then I'm gonna meet with Tana. And we're going to have a great time, the both of us." Already she was imagining what exactly the two of them would be doing when she got there. The thought alone made her skin warm with pleasure. She closed her eyes briefly so the dolls disgusting face didn't corrupt her thoughts.

Even as she thought of such pleasure Brittany couldn't force her mother's disapproval out of her mind. Angry at her mom for tainting her evening with Santana she put the doll on the table harder than she should have. It stood straight, not falling over. But as Brittany turned her back to it a piece of the chain fell off. Before she was out of the room the rest of the chain followed, pooling around the doll's wooden feet.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was late by the time she stepped from her bathroom. Wrapped around her thin frame was her bathrobe, shaded the color of pale rose petals. The bath had been hot, scalding almost, in an attempt to drive the confused thoughts of the argument with her mom out of her mind. Her skin changed to the color of her robe by the time she stepped from the water. It had calmed her as she thought, but it didn't make the guilt go away.

This was her _mom_ after all. And after loosing everyone she was all the poor woman had left. Was it really fair for her to do this to her? This woman was her mother, the one who raised her and taught her. The one who, aside from maybe Santana, encouraged her to do the things she loved and to be happy, no matter what path she picked.

But then again this was only one night with Santana, and it was her birthday. It really meant a lot to her friend, the two of them spending time together alone. It didn't happen often, with her going on tour all the time. And Santana's schedule wasn't exactly empty either. She was a performer too, a singer, and one with a voice that caused Brittany's heart to melt every time she heard the sound. Tana was still a bit of a bitch when she talked to people. But she was different to Brittany. She was soft and tender when she touched her. Her kisses were gentle and smooth.

Santana was still in love with her, Brittany knew that, even after the years of separation and reunion their lives had taken them on. Brittany was the one who had not explored her heart thoroughly enough to be able to say for certain of her love was the same. She cared for her high school friend, but who was to say if it was love or not? How could she know?

She left the bathroom in her room and sat on the edge of her bed. The water she had left in the tub, bubbles still clinging to the surface and walls. She may decide to use that water later. She still wasn't sure what she was doing with her evening.

She looked at her pillow where her phone lay. She had started keeping her phone in the bed with her in case someone, usually Santana called. With the both of them traveling for performances and recordings the both of them were, more often than not, in different time zones. It was impossible to tell when in the night she'd get a call. Finally with a heavy sigh of defeat she called Santana.

"Hey Britt-Britt." She heard Santana's voice and smiled just a little. The expression quickly fell away. "You all ready for tonight? I got a little something for us." Brittany could almost picture the toy Santana was referring to in her teasing tone. It _had _to be better than the one she got.

"I, um, I actually wanted to talk to you about that . . ." Brittany said hesitantly.

"Please, don't tell me what you're gonna say has to do with your mom."

"You know me to well, don't you?"

"I always will." Brittany tried to keep herself focused.

"Well, it is our one night out. You know, every Friday. I've told you before."

"Too many times." Santana's voice was heavy with annoyance. "I'm _really_ sick of hearing about this B."

"I just don't want to hurt her feelings," Brittany tried to defend her mom, "My leaving was hard enough with her."

"Look, this is supposed to be your life. You can't just let her live it for you."

"I know I had every right to leave. That's not the point though." Brittany sighed sadly, "I realized you were going to come over but-"

"Do you have any idea how much trouble I went through to set this up with you?"

"Tana . . . it's only one date. Couldn't we celebrate some other night?"

"Brittany you can't just-"

"I just don't wanna hurt her feelings. She is my mom after all." She knew Santana wouldn't sympathize with her. Where Brittany's mom had supported her long after her high school years Santana's had tossed her out a month after graduation telling her to fend for herself. The two never had much of a relationship anyway. There was a long moment of silence and Brittany waited for Santana to say something.

"I was just . . . " Her friend mumbled, "really looking forward to seeing you tonight. I miss you Brit. Probably more than you understand."

"I do," Brittany fought her hardest to keep herself from giving into the sadness and disappointment in Santana's perfect voice. "I _will_ spend time with you. Some other night though. Not on a Friday."

"I love you Brittany." Santana said,

"I love you too." Brittany said, "I'll see you later. I promise." Santana said goodbye first and Brittany put the phone down slowly, sadly. She hated that she had to let her down like that. Only one good thing seemed to come from it: Now she wouldn't have to give her that creepy ass doll. She resolved to put it back in the box and send it back then get herself something to eat real quick. After that she'd drive over to her mom's place. It'd be a nice surprise for her. She'll find something for Tana tomorrow. A real toy, one she wouldn't be able to resist.

"Horary for Friday night." Brittany mumbled to herself.

She first went to the kitchen, flicking on the switch on the wall. She fetched herself some chicken from the fridge and took one of the silver pans from under the oven. She took the cut of meat and put it in the middle of the tray. Looking at it for a minute she stopped. The meal was big enough for her and Tana to share, that was the original plan, but was far too much for her to eat by herself. So she took a small knife from a rack on the counter and cut the meat roughly in half before sticking in the oven and turning it on. She had never been much of a cook.

Brittany went to the living room while it cooked and turned on the light close to the sofa as she entered. The world was so dark outside she could see the stars. They were pretty, watching her through the window. She smiled at the sight of the twinkling celestial lights, though it was forced. She didn't really feel like smiling. She strode across the carpeted floor and walked around the couch. She then looked around in confusion.

The doll was not on the coffee table where she had left it "What'd you do, fall of the table?" She asked. She bent down next to the table and lifted the chain she had seen wrapped around the doll's middle. The scroll was on the table as well, but nothing else. She lifted the chain of gold, studying it for a moment, almost as if not believing this was the actual chain. But it was, and she dropped it back onto the table. She crouched over to look under the table. It was not there as well.

"Where'd you go?" She asked it as thought it would hear her and pulled the coffee table away from the sofa. Bending on her knees again she reached underneath. Her hand plunged repeatedly into the unseen darkness and explored the length of the couch. "Where are you?"

She cried out slightly and retracted her hand. Straightening up she looked at the tip of her finger where blood was beginning to flow. She looked at it in disbelief for a second then sucked off the crimson stain. "I guess I found you," She said, "Or at least the tip of your spear." She stood and walked around to the back of the couch so she could reach it easier, sucking on her finger as she did. "But how you got that far back . . ."

She reached in again, this time much more cautiously and pulled the spear from under the couch. She held it for a moment before dropping it by her knees. "We're getting warm." She ducked her head down, close to the floor and looked under again saying, "Come out come out wherever you are." Like a child playing a game. But it was not there.

_This is stupid_ Brittany thought raising her head, _it's just a toy._

She turned her head at a sound. She swore she had heard something moving. Fast footsteps, padded by carpet. A chill crept up her spine as she remembered the scroll. The chain was gone. But there was no way a toy could come to life was there? "Is that you, little man?" She said playfully with a hint of laughter in her voice. She ducked again to look under the couch, but again, saw nothing.

She turned again at a second sound coming from the kitchen. A distinct sound of metal hitting metal. She lifted her head and raised her voice, "What's going on?" She called, but heard no response.

Standing she walked into the kitchen. Cautious now she stood in the doorway looking over everything exposed in the kitchen. A book on the countertop, the plate with the second half of the chicken near it. Only a metal spoon sat between them. Her brow furrowed and she moved the spoon and dish. She _knew _she had left the knife there.

Thinking she had probably put it away without thinking _she_ checked the knife rack. Four knives lay in their places in the wood, the blades reflecting the light from above, but the last was missing. She shook her head in disbelief and checked under a few dishes, then pulled out the drawers under the counter. Kitchenware clattered loudly as she yanked them open and slammed them closed as she did not see the blade. "Come _on _Brittany," She told herself. The last drawer was closed with a loud _thunk_ as she jerked towards it.

In the very corner of her vision a shadow darted past the door accompanied by the same sound of tiny footsteps she heard a moment before. Slowly, even slower than before, she walked into the living room. Her hands were raised in balled fists as if ready to fight off an intruder. Each of her footfalls was silent against the carpet. Her own ears strained for the sound of, well, whatever she had heard. "Don't get spooky on me, Brittany," She said to herself again and walked further into the room. Everything seemed to be in place, not a single piece of furniture moved. She saw no more movement, heard no more footsteps. The only thing that sparked in her mind was the door. It was locked, something she didn't remember doing when she came in. She must have forgotten. She had to be imagining things. "The wooden doll is _not_ running around."

Darkness flooded the room in an instant. Brittany let out a small squeak of surprise and turned abruptly towards it. Nothing had changed, nothing had moved. The light had simply gone out. Brittany took the few steps needed to close the distance between her and the lamp. "That bulb probably just burned out, that's all," She said, now more to herself than anything. She reached inside the shade to pull the brass cord.

Just as she felt the cool metal of the cord against her fingertips she felt pain searing through her calf. She retracted her hand, her head falling back as she cried out in pain. A second stab of pain ran through her other leg, then a third and a fourth. At her feet the doll stood - He Who Kills stood - shouting madly in words Brittany didn't understand, slashing at her legs with the knife.

Brittany ran, but her legs did not take her far. The pain of the deep cuts He Who Kills gave her caused her legs to give under her. Her body collapsed heavily onto the floor. By the time she looked up she screamed again. The doll rushed towards her, impossibly fast, shouting just as madly as before. She scrambled away, as if it would help her, but he reached her all the same.

His knife blade flashed sliver and red as it struck at her clothes, her legs, her feet, anything it could manage to reach. It's hair flew all around its head as it stuck. Its black eyes were wild. Continuing to cry out, their voices seeming to compete for volume, Brittany reached towards the doll in an attempt to grab it and toss it aside. Progress was slow as each time she came close her skin was met with the sharp edge of the knife. As she struggled to grasp it he slowly moved his way further up her body, his blade meeting with thigh, then stomach, then chest. Only then did she manage to grip his scrawny wooden form and throw him away from her with all her strength.

With him gone she fled again, this time towards the living room. She made the mistake of looking back at her attacker and she tripped over a footstool. From the ground she saw him recover. He stood for a second, his arm raised with the knife in hand, as he shouted again. Brittany screamed and ran again quickly managing to make it to the bedroom and slam the door shut just as he reached her.

Beyond the door she could still hear its voice. He scrapped the knife against the wood of the door, trying to break through and reach her. Could it reach her? She wasn't sure. If it did what could she do? She needed help. She picked up the phone from where she left it and called Santana tried desperately to remember the police's phone number. She was sure they had told her before in school. She dialed a number and waited. Each second lasted hours.

"Operator," She said cutting off the greeting message, "Please get the police." She panted heavily as the voice on the other end asked her where she was. Brittany thought, there was so many places she had stayed at over the years. And since she was rarely home she had never learned the address, "I don't know where I'm located! Just get the police! It's an emergency! There's a . . . a," How was she to explain this? "Just get me the police please." She looked up, back to the door and her heart stopped.

The brass handle turned. She dropped the phone, not even remembering to hang up. Slowly she pulled herself onto the bed. Her legs left trails of scarlet on the sheets as she moved to the head and cowered. The doll no longer shouted, but it was not silent. Its words were low and menacing, reminding her of a growling animal. The door swung open and she saw it, hanging from the handle. Its eyes fell on her and it stretched his mouth wider before dropping to the floor. It walked around the bed, its shape hidden behind the mattresses but its position given away by the sounds it made. The sheets pulled close to the edge of the bed. A hand appeared at the side. A second joined it. It pulled its head over the side of the bed, the knife held firm in its sharp teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

She ran again before it could reach her, this time darting into the bathroom and locking the door. At least with a lock it couldn't open it. The sound of scraping metal caused her to look down. The doll was stabbing through under the door trying to reach her feet. She moved out of the way, grateful that the knife could only reach so far.

Weary she slid beside the tub, still full, and dunked her hands into the water. The heat flooded her senses and the soap burned the slashes in her skin. "This can't be happening," She told herself as she wiped the blood from her hands, "This can't be happening."

She looked around the bathroom, He Who Kills continued to wave the knife under the door. His words were short, maddened barks but they never stopped. At least now he couldn't get in. Brittany left the tub side, slow with her weakness from loss of blood, and sat on the toilet seat. She pulled one of her towels off the rack as she did and rubbed her wet hands in it. Even though she cleaned them blood still continued to stain them. She tried to steady her breathing, quiet sobs blending with them, and keep her hands from shaking. She would be ok now.

She thought of Santana, wishing the Latina was here, knowing she would have handled this _thing_ very differently. Tana was always braver and stronger than her. If only she had not told her to stay away then maybe this wouldn't be happening.

Brittany looked up at the sound of metal scraping metal. The knob twitched where it lay in the door. Brittany only stared at it trying to imagine what was happening on the other end. Was it picking the lock with the knife? There was no way? It was less than a foot tall, there's no way it can reach. Maybe it was hanging onto the handle with one hand, working the knife with the other. That was insane too. It shouldn't be able to do that. It shouldn't be able to do _any _of this!

The lock clicked open and the door swung inward. Brittany screamed again as it rushed towards her. Then she moved towards it, the towel in her hand, and caught it. She struggled to keep it contained, the knife poked against her palms as it tried to escape. But she had it. She picked it up and dunked the entire bundle in the tub. It continued to try to talk; its words became distorted by the water. Se held it under for several moments, until it fell still and silent then ran away.

Halfway through the living room she stopped and looked back as the sound of dripping water caught her attention. He Who Kills rose from the water, the knife held in its teeth again, then scrambled after her. His tiny legs were a blur as he ran. Brittany ran around the living room doing everything she could to slow it down. She picked up one of the lamps and threw it to the ground, shattering the glass, but He Who Kills avoided it all too easily. She threw pieces of the couch which it simply ran around. Threw a glass unicorn Santana had given her for her previous birthday. That hit the creature in the head, but he continued on as though uninjured as Brittany closed herself in the hall closet.

The held the handle, not wanting to let it in. It pulled against her, astounding her with its strength. Year after year of physical conditioning through cheerleading and now dance and she was matched with a toy. She struggled to keep it closed, the sound of its shouting causing a headache to throb, her legs still burning, her mind clouded with fear. She looked and saw a suitcase lieing against the wall and thankfully had an idea.

She reached for it with one hand, the other staying tight against the handle. She opened the clasps and the suitcase then held her breath as she threw the door open. The doll flew as the door opened, but was on his feet in a frantic heartbeat and raced towards her again. This time Brittany was ready for it, holding the suitcase open with a smirk. When it ran at her it hit the inside of the case and she snapped it shut. Inside it still writhed, slashing at the walls with the knife and shouting angrily.

Brittany threw the case in the middle of the living room and ran into the kitchen. She fished for something sharp of her own, found it, and ran to the front door. The door was not only locked, but jammed shut. She tried to wedge it out of the way so she could escape, but it wouldn't budge. She was trapped here. Trapped and alone. Trapped and alone with He Who Kills.

The quieting of his voice caught her attention and she looked back to where she had thrown the suitcase. Poking from its side was his knife. He moved it up and down. Up and down. Sawing open the side of the case. Brittany went and knelt beside it. If she could take the knife from him then he wouldn't be as dangerous. The blade continued its sawing motion and she reached for it with trembling hands. Her fingers grasped it, but she withdrew them quickly as it sliced them open and they ran red.

She looked away, to the stars which still watched her. She ran to the window and tried to open it. Maybe she could throw him out the window! But it didn't budge no matter how she tried to force it open. She threw all her weight against it, but still it would not budge. A sound behind her caused her to look. He had succeeded in carving a circle out of the suitcase and was forcing his head and shoulders through it.

Lost in fear and anger she ran back to it, picking up the doll's sharp spear, and jabbed it's face before it could completely escape. Again and again she struck it. He Who Kills cried out in rage and pain as she did. Each strike hindered its progress of escape. As long as she kept at it then it couldn't get out. So she stabbed madly, panting, her heart pounding. Until it fell still.

She stayed there for a brief moment, her breathing steadying, as she looked into the hole. The doll lay there unmoving. His mouth lay open and his hand closed over the knife. She had won. Her heart finally slowing she reached to open the clasp on the suitcase. She would still see about taking it back to wherever she got it from.

It sprang from the box the moment she lifted the lid. He did not strike this time with the knife, but with his teeth. He bit hard, the sharpened ends closing on her wrist. Brittany staggered back flailing her arm wildly to try to get him off. Blood formed around his teeth. She ran, throwing her arm into another lamp. Glass shattered and she broke free. And again she tried to run.

This time her flight took her to the kitchen. Her heart stopped when she closed the door, but it would not shut all the way. He Who Kills shouted angrily, his voice filled with pain. She looked down and saw part of his arm caught between the door and the frame. His hand still held tight to the knife. Brittany pulled harder on the door, enjoying the sounds of his pain, until he dropped the blade. Then with her own blood stained feet kicked it across the floor. For the first time since it came she smiled.

In her moment of triumph He Who Kills forced open the door. It did not chase her for once, his swift shape darting across the kitchen towards the knife. Brittany darted after it; she couldn't let it have its weapon back. She grasped the knife first and held it away from him. He lunged out with his teeth, his jaws closing over her neck.

Brittany cried out in pain once more. She stood, staggering with weakness, and tried to pry it from her throat. Her hand closed over the handle of the oven, warm from when she had cooked the chicken from earlier, and it fell open. A final pull and the doll broke away, his teeth tearing away skin as it did, and she threw it into the oven then closed it.

She pushed her back against the oven and braced herself by putting her foot against the countertop. It shouted and cried out madly as it's body became engulfed in flames. Glowing ashes fell from its body as it ran back and forth, throwing itself against the door to try to escape. The smell of burning wood filled the room. Thick, grey smoke rose from the oven. The shouting grew louder and Brittany covered her ears in an attempt to drive it out.

Slowly, very slowly, it quieted and the fiery form stilled. It still burned, yellow flames dancing on his back. Brittany dropped her hands from her ears in relief. There was only silence in the world around her. She could hear her own heart pounding, beginning to slow. But nothing more. Reluctant she turned and looked into the oven. She could see little more than the fire within. She had to be sure. She had to know it was really dead. So she grasped the handle of the oven and quickly opened it to take a peek.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The battle over she walked slowly back to her room. Her phone lay facedown on the floor beeping madly because she had forgotten to hang up earlier. She picked it up and ended the call. With everything done she wouldn't need to call the police.

Her fingers hovered over the buttons for a moment, wondering who she should call. Her mom? She was going to surprise her earlier. But she didn't come because of the doll. She might end up fighting with her again. Not something she wanted. But she could call Santana. It took her only a moment before she remembered the number and dialed.

"Who the hell?" Santana's confused answered, "You do know what time it is right?"

"This is Brittany, Santana." She answered sweetly.

"Britt? Are you ok? You sound-"

"I'm sorry I acted the way I did."

"I'm sorry too. You really missed out."

"I think we should spend the rest of the evening together. Just the way we planned. It is kind of late though. Why don't you come by my place, and we'll go from here?"

"Sure." Santana agreed and Brittany smiled, "I was considering going to go over there anyway. Are you sure you're ok. You sound a little strange."

"I'm alright."

"Ok. Just don't make me worry about you. I'll be there soon."

"Good. I'll be waiting for you."

She hung up the phone and went to the door. The lock still stayed where she had left it. She grasped the metal with powerful fingers and pulled. The metal broke away with a sharp squeal and she dropped the pieces on the wooden floor at her feet. Now nothing would stop Santana from reaching her.

She took a few steps back then slowly dropped herself into a squatting position, her elbows hanging off of her knees.. She held a long knife in one hand. She dropped the tip into the wood with a dull _thunk _and twisted the blade, then pulled it from the floor. She stared at the door, her blue eyes dark and hungry. She dropped the tip of the blade into the wood again, twisting it, and then pulling it out with increasing tempo.

A smile pulled at her lips. It began small and grew wider. Her lips parted and the pale shape of her teeth shone in the dim lighting of her home. Her smile stretched further and eventually stopped only because it could reach no farther. Each of her teeth, all sharpened, dagger shaped fangs, were clearly seen.

She waited.

He waited.

He Who Kills waited.

For his new prey.


End file.
